Sneak peek
Deadliest Desire (chapter 1)
Matteo
Fifteen Years Old
“Have you considered having Matteo tested?” Mrs. Klein, my freshman English teacher, smiles warmly at my parents.
She’s only trying to help, but she has no idea what her help is going to cause me.
“Tested for what?” my mom asks, like she hasn’t been told the same shit a million times.
Tested for a learning disability because I can’t read properly.
Tested for ADHD because I can’t focus or sit still.
Tested for anything that will prove why I am the way I am.
“There’s no reason to have him tested,” my dad says before Mrs. Klein can answer. “He’s lazy, and we’ll take care of it at home.”
Mrs. Klein frowns. “I don’t think—”
“We don’t pay you to think.” My dad glares at Mrs. Klein, and since he’s Andrey Antonov, known for being one of the most dangerous men in Harbor Point—hell, in all of South Florida—with a reputation of killing anyone who stands in his way, she flinches and closes her mouth. “We pay you to teach our children. So, how about you do your job, and we’ll do ours?”
“Mr. Antonov,” the guidance counselor starts.
Because I’m struggling across the board, the meeting isn’t just with one teacher. It’s with all of them and the guidance counselor. Normally, my mom would attend, but when Andrey heard about it, he insisted on coming along.
Andrey stands, damn near knocking the chair back. “We’ll handle it,” he repeats. “When my son comes to school tomorrow, he’ll be on his best behavior.”
“It’s not about his behavior,” Mrs. Paulino, my science teacher, adds. “Matteo is such a—”
“No?” Andrey leans over, getting in her face. “You’re telling me he’s failing all his classes besides PE, yet this isn’t about his behavior? Then, what is it about?”
I’m broken.
I can’t read.
I can’t focus.
I get frustrated.
I get angry.
But Andrey won’t accept any of those answers because that would mean one of his sons has a weakness, and the Antonovs are a powerful family with a reputation to uphold, so we couldn’t possibly have a weakness.
“I’ll do better,” I mutter, knowing nothing I say will make a difference but hoping maybe it will stop him from what I know is coming.
“You should’ve already been doing better,” Andrey says, his voice low, but his threat clear. “Let’s go.”
He grabs my arm, and I don’t bother trying to pull away. The last thing I want is to brawl with him in front of everyone. I wouldn’t put it past him to pull out his 9mm and put a bullet into my head, effectively curing my weakness.
With Mom following, Andrey drags me out of the conference room and outside. Since I’m only fifteen, my older brother, Dominick, usually drives me to school, but he left to go do some business for Andrey since I told him I had to stay after.
“When we get home, we’re going to have a conversation about embarrassing this family,” Andrey hisses.
“Andrey,” Mom murmurs, “he’s not bad. He’s just …”
Broken.
Stupid.
“Enough!” he barks, his hand flying up and backhanding my mom hard enough that she stumbles back.
I quickly move to catch her before she falls. Him laying his hand on her is my breaking point. It always is. I try to do as Dominick says and behave so Andrey will leave us alone. But the moment he hits our mom or sister, I lose it.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I yell, flying forward and shoving him back. “You want to be pissed? Be pissed at me. I’m the fuckup. I’m the idiot. The weakest fucking link! But don’t fucking touch her!”
Mom sniffles from somewhere behind me, and it spurs me on.
“Instead of taking it out on a woman who doesn’t stand a chance against you, hit me, motherfucker!”
I get in his face, and he takes one look at me and swings. His fist connects with my cheek, knocking me back, and my backpack flies off my shoulder and onto the ground.
“Andrey, Matteo, stop!” Mom begs. “People are going to see.”
Before I can get myself together, he lays another hit and then another. My ass hits the ground, and Andrey towers over me.
“You’re a fucking disgrace to this family,” he hisses. “I’m done paying for an education you refuse to take advantage of. Your brother gets straight A’s, and so does your sister. But you … I wouldn’t even be surprised if you weren’t my son.”
He glances at Mom. “Who did you cheat on me with? A dumbass?” He pulls out his gun and points it at my forehead. “Either you get your shit together or I’m putting you on the streets, where you belong.”
I nod in understanding, not ready for my life to be over yet. If I die, who will protect our mom and sister? Dominick tries, but Andrey has him up his ass, preparing him to take over the company. And anytime Dominick goes against him, he threatens to take it all away.
“You can walk home,” Andrey says, putting his gun away and unlocking the car door. “It will give you time to think about how you’re going to make better choices that don’t embarrass our name.”
Mom looks like she wants to argue, but I shake my head, silently telling her not to. It’s better when she doesn’t argue with him. It saves me from having to save her when Andrey gets violent.
Once they’re gone, I grab my backpack that fell on the ground and sling it over my shoulder. I could call Dominick to pick me up, but then he’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer right now. It’ll put him in an uncomfortable position between having my back and kissing Andrey’s ass so that when Andrey’s buried six feet under one day, we’ll be able to take over the business.
So, instead, I walk to the store to get a drink to delay going home. Andrey might’ve held himself back in the school parking lot, but once I get home, he’ll finish this conversation. He always does.
“Hey, Antonov,” a voice calls out.
I glance over and find Anthony Rothschild standing with a couple of guys. His father, Joseph, works with mine, but their relationship is strictly business. I don’t think my dad really has any friends. Just people who fear him.
“I heard your daddy was beating you up,” he taunts, pulling out his phone and showing me a recent social media post.
Sure enough, there’s a video of Andrey hitting me. I can’t see who posted it, but whoever it was must’ve been in the parking lot with us.
Great. That’s going to piss Andrey off even further.
“Mind your own fucking business,” I grumble.
“Your family is my business,” Anthony says, walking over to me. “Especially since, one day, we’ll be family.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Ignore him.”
I look over and find my best friend, Lorenzo Russo, sauntering up to us.
“He’s just talking shit, as usual.” He glares at Anthony, who laughs.
“I’m not talking anything but the truth,” Anthony says. “Didn’t your dad tell you?” He smirks at me. “Or was he too busy beating the hell out of you?”
He chuckles, and it takes everything in me not to beat him to death.
“Oh, wait.” He snaps his fingers. “I forgot—you’re such a loser that your dad doesn’t want you anywhere near the business.” He looks at Lorenzo. “But I’m surprised Giuseppe hasn’t told you,” he says, referring to Lorenzo’s dad.
“Quit talking crap and just say whatever it is you need to say,” I snap, sick of his shit.
All our fathers—Andrey, Joseph, and Giuseppe—used to be best friends until Joseph hooked up with Maria behind Giuseppe’s back, which resulted in Anthony.
The betrayal ruined the friendship, but our fathers—always putting business first—remained business partners, refusing to give up the power, money, and control they had been accumulating in Harbor Point. But according to Dominick, Andrey and Giuseppe have been trying to push Joseph out little by little.
“I’m going to marry Brielle,” Anthony says with a smug look on his face.
“Bullshit!” I bark. “My sister’s only in kindergarten, you fucking perv!”
I go to attack him, but Lorenzo holds me back.
“Not now.” Anthony rolls his eyes. “When she’s eighteen. And when I marry her, we’ll be family.” His gaze moves over to Lorenzo. “And Dominick has to marry Daniella,” he says, referring to Lorenzo’s baby sister.
“Stop your fucking lies,” Lorenzo says, “or I’m going to let Matteo beat your dumbass into this sidewalk.”
“I’m not lying.” Anthony cackles. “Don’t worry, Matty boy. I won’t beat your sister the way your dad beats your mom, but I’ll make sure to fuck her.”
“You perverted fuck!” I yell, going after him again.
This time, Lorenzo doesn’t hold me back. I rain hit after hit on Anthony, not stopping until I’m being pulled off of him by a big-ass guy I don’t know.
“Stop it,” he demands.
“No! He’s talking shit about my sister!” I try to go back after Anthony, who’s lying on the ground, bleeding all over the place and threatening to tell his dad like the little bitch he is.
“Do I need to call the police?” another gentleman asks, standing in front of the store door.
“No, it’s over,” the big guy says. “Let’s go.”
“Fuck that!” I bark.
“Let’s go,” the guy repeats, pulling me away by the back of my shirt.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
He continues to drag me away with Lorenzo following.
But when we get over to his shitty car, Lorenzo eyes it up and down and says, “Hey, uh, I gotta get to my dad’s office. You know he gets pissy when I’m late after school. You coming, Matteo?”
I glance at the guy, who’s silently waiting for me to make a decision. I don’t know where he wants me to go with him, but since I have no desire to go home, I shake my head.
“I’m good. I’ll hit you up later.”
Lorenzo sighs and nods, but then takes off.
“Do you make it a habit of getting into cars with strangers?” the guy asks once we’re in his car and driving away.
I quirk a brow at him. “Are you trying to kidnap me? Because I don’t know if you know who Andrey Antonov is, but he’s my sperm donor.” I haven’t called him Dad since I was old enough to know what a piece of shit he was.
“Name-dropping while talking shit? Nice.” The guy laughs. “I’ve heard about your old man, but he doesn’t scare me. Only pussies hit women and kids.”
With that one statement, the guy has gained more respect from me than I’ve ever had for Andrey.
A few minutes later, we cross the tracks that separate North and South Harbor Point. I’ve never had a reason to come to the south side of town, but I’ve heard Andrey talk about it. It’s where his men sell his drugs and run his hookers. He also has guys who collect protection payments from the local business owners to ensure nobody fucks with them.
We pull up to a shady, run-down building, and the guy turns off the car and gets out, so I follow suit, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. The sign on the outside reads …
“I’m Lucian,” the guy says, saving me from having to try to read the sign. “And this is Lucian’s Gym.”
I follow him inside, never having been in a gym before. We have a private one in our house, and I work out in it all the time, but this is something else entirely.
There are several octagons set up with various guys sparring. A workout area with machines and bags hanging from the ceiling. In the corner are free weights. The outside might be shit, but inside is fucking awesome.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, continuing to follow him to the back octagon.
“Put these on.” He grabs a pair of boxing gloves and throws them my way.
I drop my backpack on the floor and slide the gloves onto my hands while he grabs a couple of pads.
“You know your English teacher?”
“Mrs. Klein? Yeah …”
“She’s my sister.”
Oh shit …
“Look, I’m not trying to fuck with her class,” I start, but he shakes his head.
“Follow along.” He raises the pads and punches the air. “Left jab, right jab, cross, cross. Your turn.”
I mimic him, punching the pads, and almost immediately, the tension in my body starts to slide out of me.
“She cares about you,” he says as I focus on punching and jabbing. “Says you remind her of me.”
Left jab, right jab, cross, cross.
Left jab, right jab, cross, cross.
“You struggle to focus.”
“I suck at school.”
“No.” He lowers his hands and locks eyes with me. “You don’t suck at anything. You’re struggling because you’re dyslexic.”
“I’m not—”
He raises a knowing brow, and I have the urge to punch something.
As if he can sense it, he raises his hands, showing me a new combination. “Left jab, right jab. Uppercut.”
Left jab, right jab. Uppercut.
“You’re dyslexic,” he says again. “And from what my sister has told me and from the little I’ve seen, you have trouble regulating your emotions. You get frustrated and lash out because you have nowhere to release your frustration.”
Left jab, right jab. Uppercut.
Left jab, right jab. Uppercut.
Left jab, right jab. Uppercut.
“I’m almost sixteen,” I tell him, continuing to do the combination. “Then, I can legally drop out.” I hit the pad harder as I spit out the last word.
I hate that I can’t fucking read, that every damn subject requires words. Even math has stupid fucking word problems. I’ve never been diagnosed because my dad refuses to accept that one of his kids could have a learning disability, but I’ve looked it up, and Lucian isn’t wrong. I’m dyslexic.
He shows me another combination and then another and another, and before I know it, hours have passed, and I’m dripping in sweat. For the first time in a long time, my brain is calm, and my body is relaxed.
As if Lucian can hear what I’m thinking, he stops and steps toward me. “I know how it feels to not be able to control your emotions.” He lifts his pad and taps it against my temple. “It fucks with your head. When you feel like your head is pounding and your body is tensing and you have nowhere to release it, I want you to come here, and we’ll fight the frustration out of you.”
He lifts my chin with his pad, forcing me to look at him. “You’re not broken, Matteo. You just need an outlet.”
* * *
“Where were you?” Dominick asks when I stroll into the house a few hours later. “Dad’s been waiting for you.”
“I’m sure he has been,” I mutter, too drained from the gym to get worked up again.
I sit beside him at the island and steal one of the cookies he’s eating from his plate—thanks to our housekeeper, Martha, who makes the best damn sweets.
“Heard you beat the hell out of Anthony.” He chuckles.
“He was talking shit. Saying he’s going to marry Bri.”
Dominick freezes, his cookie an inch from his mouth.
“Dominick, tell me he was just talking shit.”
He shakes his head. “I wish he were. Dad talked to me about it last night, but I didn’t have a chance to tell you. Apparently, I’m being forced to marry Daniella.”
“Daniella’s a fucking baby!” I hiss.
“Shh.” He glances around to make sure Andrey isn’t near. “I know, but our father, Giuseppe, and Joseph have it in their heads that if I marry Daniella and Anthony marries Brielle, our families will be connected and unstoppable.”
“They’re fucking nuts.” I look over at Dominick. “Tell me you aren’t going to go along with this bullshit idea.”
“I don’t want to,” he mutters. “But you know I have to go along with whatever he says until we can figure out a way to get rid of him.”
“I say we kill him in his sleep … tonight.”
I’d gladly put a bullet between his eyes, and with our family’s connections, I’d get away with it.
“We can’t,” he says. “He wants me to go to college. Says it will look good. And he’s not handing anything over to me until I do. He said if anything happens to him, everything goes to Giuseppe.”
“Motherfucker!” I slam my fist on the marble countertop.
“Stop,” Dominick says. “It might take a little longer, but one day, our father will be six feet under, and everything will be ours.” He hands me another cookie. “We just have to be patient.”
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